"It's okay, Piper. It's going to be okay."
With every disaster I've had to face, my memory holds Rylee as more vivid than anything. She's the warmth that surrounded me, keeping me from shaking like fall leaves facing a hurricane. My older sister made it her personal mission to keep me safe from everything, even myself.
"Hold on tight. I won't let you go."
We fight, screaming until our throats are sore and tears have dried across our cheeks. We disagree, using a passive aggressive silence to demonstrate our displeasure. We laugh and love and live at one another's sides.
Sometimes, though, I think Rylee forgets to live her own life. She's so worried about taking care of poor, fragile Piper that she doesn't work hard enough keeping herself together. She's so strong, to the point where I can't see passed the walls she puts up, sometimes. Is she a warrior, fighting for a better life...or a toy soldier, playing the role she's cursed herself with, forevermore?
Rylee knows not to force me, the way our parents always tried to. 'Speak up, Piper. Don't be shy.' Because that always helps a girl get over her social awkwardness. She doesn't push me, but there are gentle nudges, urging me to be myself, but actually let someone see it. There's a story behind the shy walls I put up, just like there's a story to Rylee's strength.
I guess that's why I chose to work as a medical examiner, and she chose detective. We're still close, in the same building even, but there are a few floors between the basement morgue and Rylee's desk. Sometimes we work on the same cases.
I speak for the dead...and Rylee talks to the living.
Seems like a fair enough trade to me.
Jazelle Handoush | 2014
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